Echoes
by Accio-Shade
Summary: Draco and Hermione are sworn enemies. Fighting for Dark and Light. She knows he's hiding something. The line is about to be broken, even if it means putting her life at stake.
1. Dirty Blood

A/N: Hi there lovelies :). Of course, I own nothing. Everything is respectively owned by J.K. Rowling.

This is my first fan-fic... Dramione, of course. It is rated "M" for the time being. I may lower that if I see fit but there is some profanity, and definitely some smut later on ;).

Hopefully you'll enjoy it :) Please, please review! I know it will help me to make my fic more realistic. I really want to stay true to the characters that we all know and love.

Thanks so much. xoxo Carly

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><p>"<em>Hell,<em>Hermione"

The book snapped shut irritably, its dark, marred binding groaning with exertion. Dust bloomed elaborately in the still air.

A pair of round, dark gold eyes flicked upwards over the edge of the text's cover.

"Ronald" she sighed thinly, setting the heavy book aside to meet the stare of her friend.

He took in her rumbled blouse, disheveled length of deep brown-gold curls, and her shoes kicked in a careless heap near the edge of the hearth. She sat in crescent of stacked scrolls and books, broken quills and blotchy notes strewn about her.

Ron was vaguely reminded of one of Seamus's annual explosive mishaps in potions.

"Taking a quick break from studying, I understand", he replied good-naturedly. A crooked grin creased his features.

He had obviously just come from quidditch, Hermione concluded. He was in standard robes that hung thickly from his tall frame, but his characteristically red hair was windblown and messy, his freckled face rather flushed from the cold.

"Practice went well?" She allowed him to give her a hand as she brushed herself off and stood.

"Bloody brilliant", he beamed, "C'mon, Harry is expecting us in the Common Room.

They found Harry sinking into a particularly cushioned armchair by the fire, the flames reflecting warmly in the glass of his lenses, though his bright green eyes were downcast towards the pile of parchment in his lap.

He started at the sound of their entrance, but then smiled at them.

"Anything of interest?" inquired Ron, gesturing towards the sheets of paper crowding around Harry.

"Hardly", mumbled Harry disinterestedly, "Though your mum sent me a rather charming gift of cough sweets from Honeydukes… must have caught on that I had been feeling ill."

Ron muttered something condescending about his mother's obsession with his friends' wellbeing, which Harry grinned at, and uncorked a flask of pumpkin juice. He passed 'round the glasses and collapsed ungracefully into an armchair.

Hermione perched quietly on the couch, toying with the hem of her skirt, a crease forming unintentionally between her brows.

"Hermione", mumbled shoving her knee. He gave her an odd look. "What's the matter?"

Realization sparked in her eyes.

"Shit", she spat. "I forgot my Potions book in the library"

Harry frowned, concern evident in the down-turned edges of his mouth. Hermione never swore.

"You've been studying for _hours_'Mione. And there's no need. You'll do brilliantly as always. Ron and I, we're the one that should be concerned. You know we're bound to botch it like the sods we are. And look at us! Do we care?" he grinned, gesturing towards Ron.

"Hardly" replied his friend, who had put his feet up for good measure and taken another healthy swig at his pumpkin juice. He belched contentedly.

Hermione crinkled her nose but laughed despite herself. Harry was right.

" Oy! Harry, where are those sweets Mum sent you? I know very well that it wasn't just throat lozenges. She knows you like those chocolate frogs!"

"My love affair with chocolate frogs is hardly your concern, Weasley", Harry feigned disgust and snatched the large bag of sweets from his chair, clutching it mockingly to his chest.

Hermione giggled, smiling as she eased out of the Common Room, quietly closing the pane of the Fat Lady's portrait behind her. It snapped dully against the wall. She doubted that anyone but Mrs. Norris would be lurking the hallways at this hour. Something uncomfortable crawled up her spine. Perhaps Peeves…

Hermione clutched he dark robes around her, her hair falling haphazardly as a draft swept through the corridor. The iridescent moon slanted in her direction. Her mind wandered against her will.

Something was bothering her about Potions. The upcoming exam did not pose any particularly difficult material. She had studied more than necessary, looked into every aspect of every ingredient of every potion. It wasn't that. It was just the class… in general.

No. It was Snape. Yes. It was Snape. Gooseflesh crawled down her arms. She shivered in no regard to the weather.

Snape, how he glared at her, how his tone dropped dangerously whenever he addressed her, how his voice became as fine yet grating as splintered fragments of glass, itching the nape of her neck. No longer did he bellow out "Five points from Gryffindor!" in her direction whenever she displayed imperfection. He wouldn't stride over violently in the rare occasion a cauldron would erupt violently under her tending, rip her wand from her hand or mutter some degrading remark that sent the Slytherins snickering in the corner.

He hated her… now more than ever. His feelings had condensed into a palpable cloak of distaste. The resentment and disgust seeped into every single action he made around her. Every syllable cast towards her dripped venom. It was Snape. She shuddered.

_Don__'__t__ be__ such__ a__ coward.__ You__'__ve__ dealt__ with__ worse__ than__ the__ likes __of__ him._

She felt the hallow uncertainty of her words sink and burn in the pit of her stomach as she slipped through the massive library doors. Deathly quiet cloaked her. Her footfalls shattered the vacuum of silence and she cringed. There. There was her book. She made her way, holding her breath against the oppressive lack of sound.

Hermione reached out towards the text, dimly lit by the frigid moonlight flooding the cavernous room. Her fingers wrapped around the worn black binding.

She exhaled. Loudly. Too loudly.

Her blood chilled.

She was in an iron grasp, he shoulders cracking under the pressure of an unbelievable strength. She gasped as she was thrown against the table, her neck snapping back abnormally and her head thudding dully, sickeningly, against the wooden surface. Her eyes snapped open. She hadn't known they had been closed.

"_**Fuck,**_ Granger".

Cold. Frigid. That's what flooded her thoughts as she stared, horrified, into the darkest, most hate-filled pair of steel eyes imaginable. Everything about Draco Malfoy screamed anger… darkness. His angular face twisted in despise.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

The chill of his words, the taste of bitter blood filling her mouth from where her teeth had shredded her tongue, sparked an animalistic rage in the core of her stomach. She thrashed wildly under his grip. He didn't budge. When the hell had he become so fucking strong?

"Get the fuck away from me, Malfoy!" she spat, something wild ebbing into her words. Her eyes burned gold and her hair splayed around her in an untamed mane.

"Granger, what are you _doing_ here?" He repeated, calm and furious simultaneously.

"I swear to Merlin, _you__ disgusting__ fuck_, I'm going to hex you to Romania" she threatened.

Malfoy breathed in quickly, not from fear. From expectancy. Blood was dripping from the corner of her mouth, falling in a crimson tendril to the smooth table surface. Her eyes smoldered hatefully. He saw something dark and wild creep its way into her features. It was breaking free and beginning to rise to the surface.

He slammed his weight down into her shoulders, watching her as she hissed and writhed.

"Answer me, _Mudblood_."

That word hit Hermione like it never had before. Her pupils dilated. Despise flooded through her, so much that tears fled down her cheeks. Her threads of sanity pulled taut and broke. "CONFRINGO!"

Draco burst into flames. He didn't scream, like she had expected, though he released her. She rolled frantically from the surface of the table and, grabbing her wand, ran towards the door. Malfoy was still ablaze, but hardly thrashing.

"Aqua Eructo" he breathed, dousing himself, and casting a rapid drying charm. He was infuriatingly unaffected.

She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to bleed. Animosity gripped her, and she seized the dark power seething into her veins. "BOMBARDO!" The shelf of books and wall behind him exploded.

He blocked the spell with a violent flick of his wand. Reversed it. Why had he not expected her to fight back? Something twisted in him, seeing her so violent and enraged. So unlike herself… so unusually discomposed. He had tripped a wire. He was tempted.

"Can't handle the truth, Granger? Can't hand that you're a filthy little _mudblood?_"

A powerful curse shot past his ear. She hissed violently, shaking with rage.

Her eyes glowed wildly, her chest flushed.

"I may be a mudblood, Malfoy. But I can handle it better than you can handle the fact that you're an _inbred, __unloved__ bastard_,

Malfoy froze. He strode quietly, swiftly towards her, until they were about a foot apart. She could feel the dangerous electricity of harmful magic lingering in the air. In left a sharp tang on her tongue. Malfoy stared directly at her, taking in the nearly-invisible dusting of freckles on her nose, her flushed face, irate and calculating stare, and that ever-untamable atrocity that was her hair.

"What did you see?" he murmured with deathly tones.

"What did you see, Granger?" He whispered with such dangerous composure Hermione froze. She drew herself up to her full height.

Hermione breathed heavily, staring at the pale strength of his features, his jaw clenched, eyes hateful slits of clouded silver. He towered over her, his lips a thin line. Violence was suggested in every aspect of every movement. There was not a trace of softness in a single fiber of his being. His chiseled features, taught muscles, and hardened eyes could have been cast from marble, if he had not had the appearance of being threads away from attacking her with all the power and animosity of a lion. Ironic, considering he was the furthest thing from a Gryffindor.

Draco growled with frustration.

With the alarming speed and grace of a viper, he snapped up the sleeve of his left arm. And there, in horrendous contrast to the ivory of his skin writhed the Dark Mark. It radiated suffocating darkness. Hermione took an involuntary intake of breath.

"Granger", Malfoy stepped forward, a breath away, and Hermione forced her eyes up to his cold ones, "do not test me. You don't know what I've done. You don't know what I can do to you".

He lashed out, crushing her shoulders again and forcing her backward with unsettling ease. She was pressed up against the cool wall, her spine grating against the unemotional stone. He was holding her there, her feet suspended in the air.

And in that moment she felt it. His overwhelming power. It clouded her thoughts, a wet blanket dulling her logic. She blinked. She summoned all the concealed courage she knew she had and moved her face fractionally closer to his.

His eyes narrowed marginally.

She set her jaw, drawing all the venom she could and swallowing the waver that threatened to weaken her voice. "Don't. Touch. Me. Malfoy."

He smirked humourlessly.

She inhaled. "You don't know what _I_ can do to _you._ You don't understand. You don't know."

He ground his jaw and leaned in ever closer. "I'll just have to find out then, won't I?" He glanced at the table now spattered with the scarlet droplets of blood. Her blood. His eyes landed on the heavy Potions text and realization bloomed in his eyes. He glared back down to her.

She forced her gold eyes to his silver ones.

"Granger. Don't make it a habit of creeping around at night. There's more than you're Potions grade at risk. I'll find out what you saw, and then I'll deal with you.". He released her roughly and she fell to the ground, finding her feet. He shoved the massive book at her, the steely binding bruising her ribs. She blinked and he was gone.

Hermione shook violently. She felt Malfoy in every pore of her skin. The darkness settled around her. Unaccustomed confusion and fear and hate and fire crept into her, all threatening to suffocate her.

She couldn't force back her blurred and hectic thoughts.

_What__ the __hell__ was __Malfoy__ doing?__ What __wasn__'__t__ I__ supposed__ to __see?_

A sudden desire to punch something overtook Hermione.

_That __ignorant__ little__ fuck.__ How __dare __he __touch__ me?_

She took a heated swipe at her mouth with the back of her small, shaking hand. Rage swept through her at the smear of her own blood running along her skin. She slid down the wall and sank shakily to her knees.

It did not look filthy to her.


	2. Ignis Leo

A/N: Hi Loves,

Sorry it's been SO long. No excuses, and this is terribly short, but I just thought I should get something up as soon as possible. It's a bit of a filler, but I'll be sure to keep updating as often as I can!

xo Carly

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><p>By the time Hermione had burst through the Common Room's portrait, unsettling a sleeping Fat Lady, both Harry and Ron had passed out ungracefully.<p>

Harry's head bent at an unnatural angle over the crook of the chair's arm while Ron mumbled something incoherent regarding Professor McGonagall from his position on the floor.

So much for studying.

Hermione was trembling. The unwelcome metallic tang of her blood flooded her mouth again as her split lip quivered violently. She could still feel Malfoy's iron grasp against her skin, confirmed by the gradual dark bloom of long bruises etching along her arms. Fighting off the urge to collapse from exhaustion where she stood as her friends had, Hermione retired to her chambers, bracing herself for the fitful night of sleep sure to greet her.

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><p>Draco dragged his nails against the wood grain of the desk's face. The pile of parchment rested, untouched, by his left arm, brushed aside abrubtly. A broken quill settled on the floor beneath him. The last thing he was concerned about was a bloody Potions test.<p>

His dark silver eyes flicked upwards, glaring at Hermione's back.

_What the fuck has she seen?_

She shivered.

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><p>He was staring at her. She felt it. The cold seeped through her jumper between her shoulder blades.<p>

Resisting the burning desire to spin around and hex Malfoy's eyes out of his skull, Hermione quickly scrawled out her answers.

Why the hell had she felt the need to study for this?

She jumped up and strode to the front of the room, practically flung the assessment at Snape, and burst out of the doors, breaking into a sprint towards the quidditch field. Hermione drew in the icy December air, her face flushing violently as it burned her lungs and the wind whipped at her brow.

She just needed to get away from him. That disgusting, vile prat. As her anger grew, the faster she ran. Blood rushed to her arms, and her bruises ached freshly.

Snow drifted lazily down before her, catching on her eyelashes and melting against her skin. And suddenly, the fire snuffed out of her.

What the hell was she doing? She _never _ran away. And she'd be damned to let that Slytherin bastard become any threat to her. Drawing out her wand in a gloved hand, she raised it skyward _"Ignis leo"._

A brilliant stream of scarlet sparks erupted into the sky, drawing together into a terrifyingly massive lion.

Hermione smiled as its gaping mouth roared and then disappeared in a shower of crimson and gold.

No, she was hardly intimidated by a snake.


End file.
